


Well-Served

by Drenagon



Series: Lessons Well Learnt [6]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Complete, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:56:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8840110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drenagon/pseuds/Drenagon
Summary: Thorin has a plan to get his revenge. 
As Dwalin could tell you, there's a reason Thorin isn't allowed to make the plans anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShootMeDead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootMeDead/gifts).



> Was anyone else surprised to find another interlude for History-verse appearing? I certainly was! :) 
> 
> I had come to the conclusion that most of the stories for this series had now been written - the ones people were interested in reading, at least - but then a few days ago ShootMeDead commented on History asking if I would write this scene and I thought, 'Why not?'
> 
> ShootMeDead, I very much hope this does not disappoint. If you do ever find out who else you asked for this scene, let me know! I'm curious now :D :D

Well-Served

‘Legolas!’

Hearing his name called from somewhere amongst the crowds which filled Erebor’s Great Hall, the Prince of the Woodland Realm immediately began to search for the source. He spared a moment to hope that it was not someone else who wished to discuss the settlements with Dale, or the new trade routes which Varr and Thorin were working to establish. A person could only take so much boredom in one day.

After a few seconds of searching about, Legolas managed to identify the King of Erebor as the one who had wanted his attention. Rather than waste another five minutes trying to reach Thorin across this crush of people, Legolas simply vaulted over the table before him.

He made sure not to knock anything over as he did so. Princess Dís had not been back in Erebor long, but Legolas had already decided to be on his best behaviour whenever she was nearby.

‘You’ve been spending far too much time with the twins,’ Thorin told him drily as he approached. Legolas gave his best airy, innocent smile.

‘Walking around things take such a long time,’ he replied. ‘You called for me?’

‘I did,’ Thorin confirmed, then glanced around in a way which made Legolas instantly suspicious.

‘What are you up to?’ he asked Thorin warily. ‘You look just like Kíli when he is about to get me into trouble!’

‘Kíli never gets you anywhere that you are not perfectly willing to go,’ Thorin pointed out. Legolas had to agree. Life was a _lot_ more fun since he had acquired dwarven Princes as his partners in crime.

‘Nor will he this time,’ Thorin promised, an evil glint coming into his eyes. ‘Though he will be leading you there on my orders.’

‘Indeed,’ Legolas murmured, eyeing Thorin with even more interest. He glanced around the room once more and spotted Kíli and Fíli, both watching Thorin and Legolas without making it obvious they were watching. When Legolas caught Fíli’s eyes, the elder Prince winked at him.

‘What _are_ you up to, Thorin Oakenshield?’ Legolas repeated, but this time he was less suspicious than fascinated. ‘And how does it involve me?’

‘Tell me,’ Thorin said lowly in response, ‘how easy would you find it to… appropriate your father’s crown for a few hours?’

‘Why would I be?’ Legolas queried immediately. He would be no one’s unwitting pawn in this. If he was going to drive his father demented in some manner – and clearly he was, for this was the most excitement he’d had in weeks – then he was going to do so in full possession of the facts.

‘Some indignities,’ Thorin replied with great gravity, ‘cannot go unchallenged. For the sake of our people’s pride, they must be revenged.’

Dawn began to break in Legolas’ mind and he started to giggle helplessly in a manner that he might otherwise have found embarrassing. He saw his father’s look of confusion from across the room and quickly waved his hand to assure him everything was fine. Then he turned back to Thorin.

‘This is about Father carrying you like a fair maiden into our Halls when you were injured!’ Legolas exclaimed quietly, peals of laughter still escaping at intervals.

‘It is _about_ ,’ Thorin insisted, ‘the treachery of one who waits until a person is injured to do something that they would never otherwise allow!’ When Legolas gave him his best unimpressed look, Thorin relented. ‘And, yes, it is about your father carrying me like a maiden,’ he pointedly omitted the ‘fair’, which Legolas would allow. Thorin Oakenshield was a very handsome dwarf, or so Legolas was led to believe, but probably no one would describe him as fair. ‘You did not expect me to forget the incident easily, did you?’

‘No, not really,’ Legolas agreed, ‘but it has been several months now. I thought perhaps you had decided to ignore it.’

‘Dwarves are good at waiting,’ was Thorin’s only response.

‘Very well, then,’ Legolas said after a brief pause. ‘You need me to borrow Father’s crown for a few hours. What then?’

‘That is where Kíli’s role begins,’ Thorin explained, smiling slyly. ‘He will… _improve_ the crown and then return it to you so it can be replaced wherever it is usually kept. I will invite Thranduil to dine with me this evening, so most likely he will leave the crown behind. I think we are past the point when we must remind each other of our majesty on a regular basis.’

Legolas grinned again and nodded.

This was going to be _fun_!

***

‘Hurry, Kíli!!’

‘Shut up, Fíli. I _am_ hurrying. This is delicate work, you know. It’s not like bashing out a cheap poker. Besides, Uncle will keep Thranduil distracted for hours yet. Don’t be such a worrywart.’

‘When have you ever “bashed out a cheap poker”?’

‘I’m considering taking it up! Then I’d have one on hand when irritating elven friends ask facetious questions.’

‘Bilbo taught you that word, didn’t he?’

‘Shut _up_ , Fíli!’

***

Thranduil entered his rooms well-pleased with the evening he had spent. He had continued to make regular visits to Erebor in recent months, both to ensure that his relationship with the dwarves remained strong, and to put him within easy reach of the East’s newest rulers. Every reign had its teething problems, and he did feel a responsibility to aid his fellows with those problems. After all he had received help himself, many lifetimes ago.

The fact that it also allowed him evenings such as this, to share pleasant conversation with friends who had very different perspectives on the world, was simply an added bonus.

As he began to prepare for bed, a noise from the other room caught his attention. At first he thought perhaps something had fallen, but the sound was not quite right. There had been no clatter. It was a short, sharp sound, almost as if… as if someone had closed a door.

Hmm. That was interesting.

Entering the dressing room quietly, though he was fairly sure his intruder was now gone, Thranduil looked carefully around. His hand rested on a small dagger, though he was also fairly sure that no one in Erebor intended him any great harm.

Upon first glance, nothing in the room appeared to have been disturbed and all was as it should be.

Thranduil was not one to settle for a first glance. Just because he did not think his intruder meant him harm, did not mean there was nothing to find.

And he was right.

Closer inspection showed just the slightest hitch in the rug before one of the cabinets. The cabinet where Thranduil had stored his formal robes.

Approaching swiftly, Thranduil pulled open the door and surveyed the contents of the cabinet with narrowed eyes. His robes and other vestments were in order. None of his jewellery appeared to have been moved.

His…

After a moment of stunned silence, Thranduil began to laugh.

At first the laughter was quiet. Then, when he remembered he was alone, it became uproarious.

Oh, he knew _exactly_ whose hands had wrought this change. He also knew exactly what those hands had intended his reaction to be.

Well, they would not get the reaction that they had hoped for.

Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm, was not one to accept defeat easily.

***

Thorin had just begun the true work of his day, sifting through the documents that Balin had left for his review, when he was joined in his study by Thranduil.

He did not have to feign his astonishment when he saw the Elven King’s newly improved crown. Not because he did not know what Fíli and Kíli had been planning. Though he had given his nephews free rein to be creative, he had known the general gist of what they intended.

His astonishment was that Thranduil appeared completely unconcerned about the amendments made to the most important part of his regalia.

‘Bâhuh, you do realise…’ he began, but Thranduil cut him off.

‘Oh yes,’ Thranduil replied with a wide, radiant smile. ‘I do realise. I really must thank your nephews, Thorin. I think it looks much more festive like this. Do you not agree?’

‘It is certainly… different,’ Thorin concurred with difficulty, as he surveyed the myriad of small, cute forest creatures which Kíli had dangled from various points on Thranduil’s crown. He spotted a baby rabbit, a fox cub, a kitten and a small bird which might have been a sparrow, all in a few seconds.

Thorin knew they were adhered firmly enough that it would take significant skill to remove them without damaging the original. Thorin had intended to have Kíli do that work, of course. He was trying for a little revenge, not the destruction of an item that was no doubt older than he was. He had not wanted to make life too easy for Thranduil, however. Thorin had suffered muffled laughter for days and weeks after Thranduil’s gallant gesture. He had been hoping Thranduil would earn at least a little of the same.

He certainly had not expected Thranduil to take it all in his stride. The elf had been so very careful of his dignity when they first met that Thorin had been sure such a care would run deep.

Apparently not.

That would teach him to think he understood elves!

‘It is,’ Thranduil said serenely in reply to Thorin’s assertion. ‘And I do so like to be different.’

Internally, Thorin gave up. He had tried his best, but even kings had to know when to admit defeat.

Ah well, not all was lost.

At least it would be Fíli and Kíli taking the blame for this, and not him.

***


End file.
